


all our fates are a little lost

by Kirschli_Kuchen



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Canon Disabilities, Clint is not a Master Conversationalist, Families of Choice, Fluff, HOH Clint Barton, M/M, PTSD, Poly Relationship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Therapy Meetings, WAFF, and have varying disabilities, asthma and all, communal living, just covering my bases, meet weird, the howling commandos are also here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirschli_Kuchen/pseuds/Kirschli_Kuchen
Summary: It just figures that Bucky would find his soulmate in the parking lot of Denny’s. At 3 AM.





	all our fates are a little lost

“What _are_ you doing?” Bucky asks, flabbergasted  but bemused, bag of leftovers nearly tumbling out of his slack hand. 

“Whas it look like?” the man answers with a slight slur, gaze flitting between golf ball and an upright cardboard cup, club held at a slight angle. 

“Okay, point. But-” Bucky says as the guy raises the club, hits the ball at full throttle, sending it careening off straight into one of the trees lining the lot. The guy himself staggers back with the force of his swing causing Bucky to actually drop his bag to catch him. “Easy there, bud,” he says as a burning sensation starts spreading on the left side of his ribs. The ball banks off the tree and sails in a high arch directly into the cup. 

“No, ‘m fine,” the guy says as he shrugs off Bucky’s hand, but stays pressed back against Bucky’s chest for a couple of seconds longer. “D’you,” the guy starts again. Bucky’s mouth runs dry as he starts to tug at his shirt, “What _is_ that?” the guy gets his shirt up but gets stuck around his armpits and it’s enough that Bucky can see a big black shape spreading in the exact spot where his own skin had started burning. 

“Oh,” Bucky says intelligently, reaching his hand back out to touch the moving, growing blob of ink, “ _Oh_ ,” he says again as his hand connects to skin and the design takes shape and colors in faster-

The guy grips his hand, pushes it back and looks down at himself. He freezes for a long second, blinking to clear his vision. “Aw, soulmark no.” he says looking sadly at his still moving new tattoo for a long moment until he visibly remembers that a) he’s basically holding Bucky’s hand and b) Bucky is still there. His eyes widen fractionally as he drops Bucky’s hand, jumping back a step or two, shirt falling down to cover his mark, eyes focusing somewhere near Bucky's left cheek. 

“Hey,” Bucky says, hand again aimlessly extending into the air until he rubs the back of his neck, “Soulmates, huh?”

“Haha,” the guy actually _says_ in monotone and Bucky can respect that.

“Uhm,” Bucky stalls, rubbing the back of his neck, “So, I'm Bucky.” he extends his hand again for a shake.

The guy stares at the hand for a moment, then at the sleeve where his other arm would be. He doesn't look fully sober yet so Bucky doesn't mind it too much. Honestly, he's gotten used to getting much worse and time has taken a bit of the sting. He waves his hand in the guy's line of sight, “You are?”

He snaps out of it, eyes jumping back up to Bucky's face, “Shit, ah, yes,” he stutters out as he shakes Bucky's hand, “I'm Clint.”

“So Clint,” Bucky says with a grin, turning on the smolder, “Wanna go out for dinner sometime this week?”

“Huh, uh, yeah, sure.” now it's his turn to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, “Shit yeah alright,” he says and rummages trough his jeans pocket until he finds his phone. He holds it out to Bucky, “I've lost my number. Gimme yours?” he says with a weak smile.

Bucky laughs and takes the phone, “Sure.” he types in the number and sends himself a quick text, while Clint bends down and picks up Bucky's dropped paper bag and his golf club. Bucky gives him his phone back and takes the bag. He hadn't noticed before in the bad lighting but is that gold plating on that club?

Clint looks at his his phone for a second then back up at Bucky with an uncertain kind of smile. He opens his mouth to say something when the phone in his hand starts flashing lights and beeping in a very deep register. Clint startles and nearly drops it. As his eyes focus back on the screen he makes a kind of pathetic sound. He looks back up at Bucky, “Hate to say this, but gotta dash,” he says like he really means it, “Text you later about that date?”

“Sure,” Bucky says with a wave of his hand.

“Really sorry about this.” And just like that, Clint scrambles over to the bike rack and pedals away.

On a unicycle.

Bucky's fucking soulmate, huh?

  


Bucky comes back to their shared flat dazed and lies down in Steve’s bed. On Steve.

“What the fuck Buck,” Steve shouts, muffled by around a thousand soft duvets.

“I found my soulmate,” Bucky says wonderingly while he rolls over so his back is against the wall and he's not lying on Steve anymore.

“What?” Steve asks as he fights his way out of the blankets.

“I said, I found my soulmate,” Bucky says in the same exact tone he'd used the first time. He blinks, “Oh, and I got you a bag of pancake puppies. They're on the nightstand.”

Steve stares blankly in his general direction, then turns and puts on his small reading lamp. “Okay, I don't think I heard you right. What?”

“There's puppies on the nightstand.” Bucky says, squinting up at him.

Steve squints back, “Well thanks, I guess, but I meant that first part?”

“Oh, yeah. I found my soulmate.”

Steve squints harder, then his face breaks out in a giant and heartfelt grin, “That's wonderful Buck!” He sits up fully and grabs Bucky by the forearm crammed between them, “What's their name? How did you meet?”

“Eh, well,” so Bucky tells him about the crazy golf man in the parking lot at Denny's.

“What time is it even?” Steve asks with a laugh.

“It's like four or something, I think.” Bucky answers and stares at the little halo of light from the lamp on the ceiling.

Steve snickers, “What's his name?”

“Clint,” Bucky says on something approaching a love sick sigh.

“Can I see it then?”

“What?”

“Your soulmark, of course!” Steve says, excitement pouring out of his grin, eyes raking up and down Bucky's prone form.

“Huh, yeah sure.” Bucky shrugs, sits up, pulls off his shirt and turns in the cramped space as best he can.

“Oh, wow,” Steve says, awed. He reaches a hand out to touch it, “May I?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Bucky says distractedly, turning his head to try and look down at himself. Steve traces a long line horizontally across his rib cage raising goosebumps in his wake. “Can you tell me what it is?” Bucky asks, trying to drill a hole through his shoulder with his eyes.

Steve looks up at him, surprised, “You haven't looked?”

“Came straight here.”

“Okay,” Steve says and grips Bucky's shoulder, “Get up, we're taking these puppies,” he says as he gets them with his other hand, “And setting up shop in the bathroom. So you can ogle while I ogle. Light's crap in here anyways.”

They get up and go. Steve gets the light and Bucky stops in front of the mirror. He's familiar with this angle of himself. He's spent many hours after he got back from his last tour in exactly this spot looking down at the scars spidering out from his stump. Thinking about how he-

Steve rustles the take out bag, snapping Bucky out of his melancholy. “One for you,” he says as he dangles a puppy in front of Bucky's mouth, waiting for him to bite into it, “And one for me.” He pops one into his own mouth and licks his fingers. “Okay so, now. Let's see what we got here.” He gets in Bucky's space and traces the same line across his ribs, only now Bucky can see the arrow shaft he's following all the way from the outer edge of his shoulder blade about an inch from his nipple.

“Oh,” Bucky says, a bit breathless. It's a nice arrow, stylized, nearly pictographical but with more flair to it. Under it there's some kind of open spiral, with some buttons on it, ending in a little nub, most of it violet. Bucky hasn't seen something like it before so he hasn't the first clue what it could be. “You know what this is?” Bucky asks as he's brushing his own fingertips over it.

“No,” Steve says at length, tracing the edge of the spiral, “You could text Clint?”

“Hm,” Bucky hums, noncommittal, “'D like to wait until after the first date.” He's still staring into the mirror, “It's important isn't it?”

Steve smiles up at him, “That it is.” He looks to the door, “You want me to stay for a bit?”

“Nah,” Bucky says, not taking his eyes of his mark, “Go back to sleep Steve-oh.”

“Kay,” Steve says and claps Bucky on the shoulder, “See you in like two hours.”

  


Tomorrow finds Bucky still standing in the same spot while Steve tends to his morning routine around him.

“You want something for breakfast?” Steve asks around his toothbrush.

“Nah, 'm good.”

“Okay,” Steve says after he spits, “Don't forget you have a meeting at the DVA at one.”

“Yeah, yeah, mom. I'll go.”

“Uh-huh, I'll set you an alarm,” Steve says on his way back out.

Bucky stays gently tracing back and forth across the arrow as he'd done for the past two hours. After about another hour or so he snaps himself out of it and shucks off his sweats and underwear to take a shower. He shoots a last look at the mark in the mirror and stops. There just on the swell of his hip is another part of his mark. It's a string of nine numbers – possibly a social security number? Bucky traces the first digit of it slowly, then lets his hand drop on a sigh.

No matter now. He'll ask Clint in due time.

He takes that shower and puts on sweatpants and a loose tank top. Fishing his phone out of his old sweats and texts Clint. 'dinner today?' he doesn't really expect an answer for at least another hour but not a minute later he gets 'sure around 6? pizza?' Bucky smiles, 'sure' he types. Clint rattles off an address not too far from the flat. 'see you there' Bucky writes back, including a smiley face at the end and that's that.

Bucky passes the time watching TV and tiding up a bit until the alarm rings a couple of hours later.

He puts on a hoody, goes to the apartment downstairs and knocks on the door.

“It's open!” someone yells from inside, so he lets himself in and heads straight to the kitchen. He shamelessly opens the fridge and reaches in.

“Hey Morita, that sandwich for me? You shouldn't have!” Bucky yells in direction of the bathroom.

“You touch it, you die!” Falsworth yells back from the bedroom. Bucky takes a big bite out of it.

“'S good,” Bucky yells as he wanders through the flat to the open bedroom door, “That pastrami?”

“Oh, you sonufa-” Falsworth spits from where he's buried under Junior. Morita comes out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped precariously around his hips.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks as he walks by Bucky to get some clothes.

“Actually-” Bucky starts with a leering smile.

“I think congratulations are in order,” Morita cuts in, throwing a sharp smile over his shoulder.

“Whatever for?” Falsworth grumbles, “Asshole stole my sandwich.”

“Our good friend Barnes here,” Morita starts as he whips off his towel and throws it at Falsworth's face, “ _The_ James Buchanan Barnes – AKA the biggest flirt of the 107 th,” he pulls on a pair of jeans and buttons up, “Has finally found his soulmate!” he ends with a flourish, spinning around on his heel to grin at a spluttering Falsworth.

Bucky makes a face, “Aw, Stevie gave it away.”

“Of course my man,” Morita says grin still firmly in place, pulling on a plain white tee, “Send a group text first thing in the morning.”

Falsworth shakes with silent laughter while he drapes the wet towel lovingly over Junior's face. Bucky wants to throw something at Falsworth, too, but he just finished the last of the sandwich and nothing else is in easy reach.

“Like you can talk,” Bucky says and crosses his arm over his chest, “You're literally cuddling with one of your soulmates right now.”

“He's got a point,” Morita sighs as Junior starts to squirm on the bed.

“Shut up,” Falsworth says, lying as still as possible as Junior unconsciously tries to free his head to no avail, “Least _I_ never flirted with literally _everything_ that breathed in my direction. _I_ had standards.”

“And look at where you ended up,” Bucky shoots back.

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Morita protests while he straps on his watch.

“Okay alright,” Bucky amends, “He got _you_ way above his pay grade. But look at them,” he gestures to the bed, where Junior is slowly but surely waking up due to the wet and uncomfortable feeling of being derived of most of his oxygen by his soulmate, who's still trying to bite back his laughter.

Morita presses his lips together and pretends to think for a moment. “You got me there.”

“Hey, now I take offense!” Falsworth shoots back.

“Nobody cares,” Bucky and Morita say in uncanny unison.

“Don't you gotta be somewhere?” Falsworth grumbles as Junior finally splutters awake, sitting up abruptly and pulling the towel from his face.

“What the fuck?” he says quietly but with feeling and shoots a distrustful look at the door, where Morita has just joined Bucky.

“Don't look at me,” Morita says unconcerned. Junior throws Bucky a short look, then he turns to Falsworth and hits him with the towel.

Morita and Bucky snicker as they step out of the room.

“Really,” Morita says as he puts on a jacket, “I'm happy you found your soulmate.”

Bucky rubs the back of his neck, “Thanks, I guess,” he says, slightly embarrassed, “But I don't even know if it's gonna be anything yet.”

Morita shrugs, “Well at least the chance is there now, isn't it? You make whatever you want of it.” They go down to Morita's car.

A grin slowly takes over his face again, “So how'd you meet?”

Bucky's eyebrow rises, “Steve didn't tell?”

“Nah, only said it was a whole story,” he says as he opens the door.

“I guess it is,” Bucky sighs, “I'll tell it after the meet.”

“Sure,” Morita says, easy.

They stop by Dum-Dum's house to pick him and Happy Sam up. Bucky is congratulated with hugs and back slaps. Of course they also want all the deets like the dirty gossip-hogs they are.

“I'll tell you guys after the meet,” Bucky repeats from the depths of Dum-Dum's bear hug.

“Probably a good call,” Happy Sam decides and with that they're off again, trading jokes and wisecracks on the way.

  


The meeting goes about as well as expected. Which is to say good. They'd all been back for some years already, know what to expect. Been to these types of meetings in groups or individually countless times. Dernier's been back the shortest at two years and while things for them all aren't always sunshine and pie they're slowly getting there.

When the meet is over they all sit down in a loose circle. Dum-Dum's also invited Sam Wilson for story time and he's more than happy to join. Getting his soulmate all the juiciest gossip is always a good motivation.

“We're really doing this, huh?” Bucky asks, kinda rhetorically. He's already made peace with getting teased mercilessly by the entirety of his group of friends. It's basically tradition by now. What he's not really sold on is getting T'Challa in on it. Well, he can count on Sam dampening the blow at least a little. He hopes.

“Enough with the suspense!” Dum-Dum booms, “Out with it!”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky sighs and relates the tale of the drunk golf guy.

“He rode a what?” Happy Sam asks, incredulous. He and his soulmate, Elena, had met at an art gallery. Very classy and shit. He just can't phantom soulmates meeting like that.

“A unicycle,” Bucky says, long suffering.

Sam's on the ground holding his stomach and laughing so hard that tears are streaming out of his eyes. Dum-Dum's not too far behind but he has to get a couple of wisecracks in before he'll go down like that, “So you could say,” he starts between giggles, “That he fell for you?”

Morita has the biggest shit eating grin on his face, but he's just sitting there, letting everything unfold.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Bucky shoots back at all of them, “See if I ever bring the prized Barnes Cannoli to dinner again.”

There's a general outcry, “I didn't even say anything mean!” Happy Sam bemoans from his seat.

“Thank these other jokers,” Bucky grumbles and slouches down. Sam's laughing even harder now.

Morita claps Bucky's shoulder, “So, you got a date lined up?” Sam downgrades his laughing to giggling and raises an eyebrow.

Bucky smiles, “Actually-”

“Already?” Dum-Dum says, both of his eyebrows jumping to his hairline. He and his soulmate, Caitlin, had had a long and arduous courtship behind them where he went to the diner she worked at every day for over a month, while she was mildly amused and charmed by his clumsy advances. It was never that she did not like him on sight, she most certainly did, it was rather that she'd already been a single mom and had expected not to have any time for a boyfriend. She was quite surprised at how easily he slotted into her life when she gave him any time of the day.

Actually most of their little circle of friends hadn't jumped right into dating. Morita, Junior and Falsworth had a substantial animosity between them when they first found Falsworth some months after Morita and Junior had already been together. Happy Sam had never mustered up the courage to call Elena so she finally called him after she'd waited for two good weeks. Gabe and Dernier hadn't ever been the dating sort to begin with. Steve hadn't even found his soulmate yet. Of course Pinky and his girlfriend were the happy exception.

And now Bucky is, too.

“We're meeting for dinner tonight,” Bucky says smile widening into a full blown grin.

Morita claps him on the shoulder, “Good job, my man!”

  


Bucky gets to the pizza place around 20 minutes too early. No, he isn't nervous. It's just that the boys had all invited themselves over to their very small flat to help him 'pick the perfect outfit'. They're high school kids like that. Steve had also begged Peggy to come over for some actual help in the dressing department.

In the end she had decided on a gunmetal gray dress shirt with simple black trousers. Or at least that's what he escaped in after the sixteenth outfit they had him try on.

He asks for a table for two and sits down, idly fiddling with the silverware and napkins, not looking at the menu yet. The place is halfway to really classy, clean and pretty but with a more family feeling. Bucky likes it.

Around half an hour later Clint shows up, looking harried. His shirt untucked and hair in disarray. He stands in the door for a long moment before he spots Bucky and beelines straight for him.

“Sorry I'm late,” he says, still somewhat out of breath, “Had a bit of a run in with-” he trails off, “Oh, well.” he rubs the back of his neck, “Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Bucky says with his killer smile, putting his phone away, “I'm just glad you made it.” Clint fumbles with his chair as he sits down.

“Still, sorry;” he repeats with an embarrassed grimace masquerading as a smile.

“So, how bout something to eat?” Bucky tries to alleviate the tension and picks up the menu. Clint follows suit.

“I would recommend something but really I usually just order the pepperoni,” Clint says with an actual smile. Bucky looks up at him.

“That's actually fully up my speed,” he says and leans forwards, “But just for today, I'm pretending to be classy.”

Clint laughs.

Bucky sits back and smiles, “Tell me about yourself?” he asks looking back down at the menu, to give Clint some space.

“Hm,” Clint also looks at the menu as he thinks. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, “Well, I got a dog-” he trails off.

“What kind of dog?” Bucky prompts.

“The dog type.” Clint shoots back with a shiteating grin making Bucky laugh.

“Not a dog-dog person, I take?”

Clint smiles back, “Nah, got him off the street. Dog saved my life. Couldn't really well leave him out there.”

“Story you wanna tell?” Bucky asks.

“Not right now,” Clint shifts in his chair.

Bucky hums, “You ready to order?” Clint looks at him like he is something innately good and Bucky can't really deal with that right now so he just looks back down at the menu.

“Yeah, I'll have the calzone and a beer.”

“Cool, I'm gonna go for a lasagna and also a beer,” Bucky says as he waves the waiter over.

They order and when Bucky looks back up Clint is looking down at the candle in the middle of the table with a kind of absent look. There's a long pause.

Bucky smiles at him, “So, we can make it a game, you tell me something I tell you something possibly completely unrelated.”

Clint looks up, smile slowly spreading on his face, “Pretend we're good at conversations?”

“That's the idea.”

“Alright then, your turn,” Clint says, smile turning wicked.

After a moment of consideration Bucky says, “Hm, well I'm living with my best friend.”

“Flat or house?” Clint asks, not looking really put off by the notion. Things are looking good for Bucky.

“Flat,” he shoots back.

“Ooh, thin walls?”

Bucky raises an interested eyebrow, “Exhibitionist?”

“Maybe,” Clint raises his own eyebrow in response.

“Alright.” Bucky says and holds his hand up with a smile. “Your turn?”

Clint hums a little song in contemplation, “Okay so, I was part of a circus a few years back.”

“Let me guess. Unicycling?” Bucky asks as their drinks arrive.

Clint waits til the waiter's gone again and takes a sip, “Nope,” he pops his p, “Knife throwing.”

“Cool,” Bucky says when he notices Clint shifting his weight and flitting his eyes everywhere but at him. He lifts the shoulder of his stump arm, “I've been honorably discharged from the army after an IED blew up my arm. At the moment I'm receiving disability benefits from the Maria Stark Veteran Fund.” This is it. This is the make it or break it kinda deal. If Clint decides a crippled war veteran living off of benefits is not for him, then Bucky will pack his bags and go.

Clint goes still and Bucky expects the worst, “Huh, that's strange...” Clint says and rubs at the space just behind his ear.

Bucky waits a couple of seconds more but Clint's just absently staring into space. “What's strange?”

Clint snaps out of it, “Ah well,” he says threading his fingers into the back of his hair and tugging, “I kinda know Tony Stark?”

Bucky's eyebrows jump up toward his hairline, “You know Tony Stark.” He wants it to come out as a question but really, nothing Clint says could really surprise him anymore. Not after how they met.

“Uh, well, yeah.” Clint tugs a little harder, “I kinda, uh well, live with him every now and again? Look after his kids?”

There's a bit of chatter from another table as Bucky says, “You live with him.”

Clint looks back up at Bucky, nods and smiles a smile that's more a grimace than anything else. He looks so utterly uncomfortable, that Bucky decides to drop the issue for now. At least it did gloss over Bucky's situation. It's not a solution or even closure but Bucky's okay with that right now.

“Okay so technically, is it my turn now or yours?” Bucky asks trying to get Clint to loosen back up again.

Clint looks at him again with that look he can't really take and says, “Well, you know that I work as a glorified nanny in my downtime now so I'd say it's your turn.”

“Fair,” Bucky says as he ducks his head. “I have like four nieces and nephews.”

The waiter comes back with their food. Clint bites his lip in a terribly attractive fashion, “Quick pause until after we've eaten?”

“Sure,” Bucky say and raises his glass in a toast, Clint follows suit, “To kids, I guess.”

Clint laughs under his breath, “To kids,” he echos.

The lasagna is good, Bucky's gotta say. Not as positively delicious as his grandma's but good nonetheless. He asks Clint about his food and he says he likes it. Then again not a lot that can go wrong with what's basically a folded up pepperoni and ham pizza.

When they've finished eating it's Clint that asks, “Dessert?”

Bucky feels a dopey smile spread on his face, “Sure,” he says. Clint ducks his head as Bucky flags the waiter down for another set of menus.

Bucky drinks the last dregs of his beer. There's a bit of a racket from another table. “So, I believe it's your turn?”

Clint's eyes jump up and he turns his head a bit. After a moment, “I'm sorry, but could you say that again?”

“Oh, I said: 'I think it's your turn'?”

Clint ducks his head again, he bites his lip, thinking for a long moment. “Ah well,” he turns his head, and pulls his ear forwards exposing something violet behind it. Bucky makes a noise in his throat. “I'm like 80% deaf on both of my ears.”

Bucky just stares for a bit. Clint starts fidgeting bad. Bucky reaches his hand out over the table to touch a spot just below Clint's ear. Clint stills.

“That's one of them,” Bucky says, look of wonder on his face.

Clint sucks in a startled breath, not needing Bucky to elaborate. He bites his lip again and slowly pulls away from Bucky's hand. “Ah well,” he starts in a quiet voice, his own hand coming up to rub at the spot just behind his ear, “It _is_ important I guess.”

Bucky's hand goes to where he'd traced his tattoo for hours the night before.

Clint snaps out of it first, “Your turn.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky drops his hand and raps his knuckles on the edge of the table, “Uh, I've been back from the service for over three years and still go to DVA meetings with my army buddies.” He lets his hand slide out and plays a bit with the tablecloth.

Clint's quiet for a moment, something going on behind his eyes that Bucky can't parse. “That actually sounds like a pretty good safety net to me.” he says with a gentle smile and reaches his hand out to touch Bucky's at the edge of the table.

Bucky pulls his hand back a bit and treads his fingers with Clint's, pushing their hands to the middle of the table. He takes a covert deep breath. “So about that dessert?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, easy, lets his hand go and picks up his menu.

Bucky clears his throat and picks up his up, too.

They don't say a lot between ordering their dessert, getting and eating it. The air about them calm and quiet.

Clint flags down the waiter to pay.

They sit in companionable silence while they wait for the waiter to come back, Bucky lost deep in his own thoughts. He only snaps out of it when the check comes back and Clint tries to sneakily pay for them both.

Bucky reaches out for the check, “I'll get that,” he says with what he hopes is a magnanimous smile.

Clint grins back, and tries to keep the check out of his hands, “I'll get it, no problem.”

“Please,” Bucky says as he tries to tug it out of Clint's grip, “I invited you. My treat.”

They get a bit of a tug-o-war going on until Clint karate chops Bucky's hand away from the check and says, “You can get the next one.”

Bucky is a bit blindsided by the prospect of a next time, if he's being honest. He lets his hand sink slowly.

Clint takes the sudden stillness in Bucky as a bad sign. He seems to shrink a bit, “Unless you don't want another date?”

And that spurs Bucky into motion, he reaches his hand back out and clasps Clint's over the check. “I'll get the next,” he says, what he hopes is suave but it's probably more breathless.

Clint smiles at him, still uncertain.

Bucky smiles back, rubbing his thumb over Clint's knuckles, “I'd like that very much.” he sits back and lets Clint put some bills in the check. Clint puts it on the table. Bucky rises as Clint drains the last dregs of his beer and then follows him.

They make idle conversation on the way to heir respective homes. Mostly chatter about what kinds of movies they like or what kinds of music.

“Let me see you home save?” Bucky asks with a hopeful sort of tone.

“Ever the gentleman, aren't you,” Clint says and smiles wryly.

“That isn't a yes,” Bucky says sagely, bringing his hand up to stroke his chin.

Clint gets a kind of sappy look in his eyes before he turns them away and rubs the back of his head, “Sure, c'mon.”

They just walk side by side for a minute or two. Bucky bites his lip and slowly reaches his arm out so his hand brushes Clint's. Clint startles and looks down, then up at his face. His mouth goes through a myriad of shapes until he drops his eyes and slowly, carefully grasps Bucky's hand in his.

Bucky bites his lip again, trying to keep his face from breaking out into the dopiest grin known to man, but he just can't stop himself.

Their silence is comfortable as they walk all the way to Clint's front door.

“Oh,” Bucky says as Clint reaches for his keys.

Clint makes an interested sound in the back of his throat and turns his eyes on Bucky.

“I live like a couple of blocks that way,” Bucky says and jerks his thumb in the direction of his flat.

“Huh,” Clint freezes for a second or two, then turns to face him fully. “So, um,” he starts, fidgeting.

“Yeah, um,” Bucky shoots back, quizzical.

Clint pulls a face at Bucky, “Well I just realized that this is goodbye for tonight.”

Bucky hums in the back of his throat and picks up Clint's hand. He brings it up to his face and waits for permission. Clint inclines his head, curious, and Bucky presses a quick kiss to the palm of his hand.

Clint makes a startled sound but doesn't pull back. Something happens behind his eyes that Bucky can't really follow. Then he takes a deep breath, “Would you like to go on another date with me?” he asks so earnestly Bucky can't help himself but smile so big it hurts his cheeks.

“Of course,” he answers into the curve of Clint's palm, letting his lips brush the skin with his words.

A grin spreads unbidden on Clint's face, free hand coming up to to rub at the back of his neck.

Bucky lowers Clint's hand, just holds it for a moment and then lets go.

“Great,” Clint says, looking at the ground, “Uh, I'll text you?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, “Looking forward to it.”

Clint looks back up and they stay just looking at each other for some long minutes. A dog starts barking in the distance making them snap out of it.

Bucky clears his throat and Clint searches his pockets for his keys. When he finds them he holds them up with a triumphant sound and promptly fumbles and drops them. Bucky chuckles softly as Clint bends to pick the keys up.

Clint pouts as he straightens up. Bucky chuckles louder and takes a step closer to Clint.

Clint doesn't move for a second then he presses his forehead to Bucky's, “I had fun tonight,” he says breath fanning out across Bucky's lips. He smells like the berry sauce that went with his dessert.

Bucky presses back, “Me, too,” he says on a sigh, hand coming up to tangle in Clint's shirt.

Clint pulls back slowly, not really wanting to let go but making himself let go all the same.

Bucky misses his warmth already.

Clint turns and opens the door to the apartment complex. He looks back at Bucky, “Text me when you're home?”

Bucky swallows once, “Yeah, will do.”

Clint smiles as he closes the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [find me @ tumblr](http://kirschlikuchen.tumblr.com/)


End file.
